10 January 2013

For now, the smoke has given way to jasmine once more, if only the breath of memory. The air is still, but for the ripples the cicadas make, to say that this day will steam you ’til your bones grow limp.

No, the air is not still – not completely: the palm fronds dance with themselves, and the climbing spinach twirls its tendrils as I once did, reaching out for anything to take hold of.

We keep low today, crawl towards the water-hole, towards the cacophony of the gathering, towards the song of water on cool pebbles.

We long to go deeper.

2 January 2013

Relics accumulate in my home like a shrine:
a gleaming Venn diagram and 36 glowing drops of sky
on the table; clouds swimming in the fridge.

Outside, the climbing spinach makes itself at home.

1 January 2013

The palms near the traffic lights broadcast a sweet Southern birdsong as I wait for the signal. In the deepening blue of early evening, I strain to see a place among those swaying arcs of leaves where any bird could perch, and am left wondering if the trees themselves have learned to sing.

Arbitrary Time Travel

new ID card —
in an electronic blink
I age a decade

mr oCean, 14/12/12

Review of home{sic} by Julie Beveridge

I was delighted to write this review of Julie Beveridge’s latest chapbook, home{sic}, for Brisbane’s splendid electric street-press, OffStreet, as it’s a collection that really resonated with me.

If you like the sound of it, you can pick yourself a copy via the Another Lost Shark store.

Musk Avenue

The sunset-silhouetted Norfolk Island pines broadcast a screeching chorus, to completely fill the space between the buildings, and high above, the currawong calls to its reflection.

Wordless

Dark energy — the mathematics tells us that it’s there;
we just haven’t found the way yet to observe it,
but the day that we do… such beautiful noise.